De Ja Who?
by Richards9999
Summary: THe Doctor and Martha respond to a distress call from a derelict ship. Although The Doctor feels it's all rather odd.. ***Apologies to anyone who started reading this. I couldn't find a way of editing a sentence that didn't make sense wo had to delete and re publish.*************
1. Chapter 1

Following a conversation about finding an "amazing beach", The Doctor had set about finding the co-ordinates, tinkering with the control console and generally muttering to himself about a planet he knew, giving Martha leave to do petty much as she wanted to. This usually meant retiring to her room to study or attempting to understand the bluster of technical jargon her Time Lord companion used (usually with little avail), but today she had decided to explore deeper into the TARDIS than she had before. Martha was often given free reign to wander aimlessly around the random corridors and rooms within the TARDIS and today was no exception. Leaving her 'phone on the TARDIS control panel, picked up her books and headed off into the depths of the time machine.  
Very soon she had run out of familiar corridors and had walked into alley ways that were lit dimly and seemed neglected or, at least, under used. Grime and dirt lay caked in the circular wall designs and, in extreme cases, plants sprouted from the tiny gaps between the wall and the floor. She eventually came to a corridor that was much darker than the others - cooler too, if she was being honest (but not unpleasant) - and where the vegetation had grown unchecked for must have been, well, centuries. Ivy-like plants clung to the walls and thick vines hung in loops from the ceiling. Here and there bright flowers sprouted through the lush greenery, breaking the line of the plants in an explosion of colour. Martha smiled to herself, taking in the beauty of the foliage and the absurdity of finding such plants on the TARDIS. The outline of a door was visible through the semi jungle and, letting her curiosity get the better of her, she pressed firmly against it half expecting it to be immovable under the influence of the plants. To her surprise it opened, slowly at first and then swung back on stiff hinges. She peered inside and gingerly took her first steps over the threshold.

The room beyond was unlike anything she had witnessed before during her numerous travels on the TARDIS. Instead of the sleek lines of the bridge and the metallic features of the various stair wells and instruments, this room contained stone arches and rich tiled floors. Sculpted columns bearing inscriptions and pictures, covering in the same climbing plants as the corridors outside, held up a ceiling splendidly decorated with what she could only imagine was a map of a galaxy. The sound of running water forced her look over her shoulder where a pool was being fed by a fountain carved into the shape of a large fish-like creature that she didn't recognise. Despite its obvious neglect the room was light, airy and had character. She spied a stone bench next to the pool. Its legs covered with foliage but its seat was surprisingly clear, if a little dusty. She sat, took out her book and began to study surrounded only by the sound of the fountain and the occasional bristling of the leaves in the scant breeze.

Her concentration was broken several hours later when another sound was added to the gentle trickle of water into the pool. The dull, heavy sound of a large bell being rung slowly and methodically filled the room. And, due to the cavernous nature of the stone compartment, it seemed to echo off every wall, amplifying the tone almost ten fold. It vibrated though Martha's stone seat and sent shock waves through her body. Her head began to hurt as the bell tolled. She clamped her hands over her ears in response to the aural assault of the bell, but to no avail. It seemed just as loud and just as painful. She had to leave and it was impossible to remain in the room. so, gathering up her things, she ran from the room and into the corridor beyond.

To her immediate surprise the bell was just as loud outside the room as in it. Had she set off some alarm? Would The Doctor be angry? Trying to hold her hands over her ears - and carry her books - she made her way back to the control room, trying to piece together an explanation for her wandering into the far flung corners of the TARDIS.

Rushing back to the bridge she found The Doctor in a pensive mood. Gone was the frivolous posturing of their previous conversation and in its place was a gritty seriousness. His brows were knitted together harshly, his back was arched over a screen on the TARDIS' console and his fingers danced over the buttons on the displays. He didn't look up when Martha approached but pre-empted her question with a brisk answer:

"Cloister bell," he said simply. "Something's wrong. Very wrong."

"I -I - I didn't mean to go into the room with the fountain!" Martha stammered in protest. " It - it just looked like a great place to study! I didn't know it would set this alarm off!"

"What?" he snapped, looking at her for the first time. "Oh, no, no, no, " he waved a hand to dismiss her claims. "You didn't set it off. It usually means there's a big threat out there. I mean, really big. Huge, even. Nothing to do with you entering the Cloisters. How was it by the way?"

"Overgrown," she responded instantly.

"I need to do something about that," he said absently, looking again at the screen. "But maybe I should do something about this first." He wagged a stray finger at the screen in front of him. " A distress signal."

"Is this what this Cluster Bell is?" Asked Martha, taking her hands from her ears, deciding the bell was still too loud and replacing them.

"Cloister Bell," corrected The Doctor. "No. Well, yes, in a way. It's an internal distress signal. It usually means the TARDIS is in danger. But I've picked up another distress signal using the same sub space frequency. It's like it's in tune with the TARDIS."

"Is that a bad thing?" asked Martha. "Can you turn it off?"

"It's down to the TARDIS," The Doctor said, "but to answer your first question: yes. Or no. It could mean someone with a TARDIS is in distress or..." he trailed off, taking more and more interest in the screen in the control console.

"Or?" asked Martha, eagerly wanting him to finish. He didn't. " Or what, Doctor?!" she pressed.

"That ship," he mumbled.

"Or that ship?" Martha repeated, slightly confused. " That doesn't make sense."  
"What?" asked The Doctor, somewhat distracted.

"You said the bell either means someone with a TARDIS is in distress or that ship," she repeated. "You're not making sense."

"Maybe we need to investigate," he offered in response, his eyes not leaving the console.

"Investigate?" Martha shook her head in confusion. The Doctor looked up and, realising that he had not made himself clear, turned a switch on the dashboard which forced a very shaky holographic image of a very old space ship to crackle into life between them.

"The distress signal is coming from that ship," he said, gesturing towards it with his head. "Maybe we need to investigate. Ooh, like detectives!"

Martha shot him a wary glance. "It looks a wreck. Will it be safe?"

"And there's a curious air pocket on board! Oh, doesn't it sound exciting?" he asked smiling. "Who knows, there could be treasure. I've always wanted to find treasure. Oh, just like Treasure Island!"

Martha was still unwavering. The bell was still tolling. "It could be dangerous," she warned.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Martha Jones?" The Doctor grinned and prepared the TARDIS for landing. "Mind you," he sniffed, "there is something a bit familiar about that ship. I've got this odd feeling..."

He trailed off again. Martha shot him a glance in expectation of an explanation. It did come. Instead, The Doctor shrugged,opened the TARDIS' door and tugged on his coat. "Come on, Martha." He trilled as he exited.

Martha sighed and followed him.

~0~

They materialised in a shadowy corridor. Emergency lighting threw pools of light onto long neglected walls and metallic fittings. The floor was awash with debris that crunched under foot as The Doctor Martha began to explore the ship's interior. The air was heavy with the smell of slight decay which reminded Martha of a the 'fridge she had had in her student flat a few years ago. The Doctor activated his sonic screwdriver and took the readings.

"It looks like the distress signal is coming from that way," he said, gesturing down the darkened corridor. Then he added "That's a bit unexpected. Odd, you could call it," he said sniffing. "Or very odd. Depends on your point of view."

"What's odd?" Martha asked, trying to make out where he corridor ended in the scant light.

"The ship's life support system has been inactive for air pocket isn't part of the ship," said The Doctor. "It's been created by someone - or something, could be a something - that needs to be on board. The question is why?"

"Maybe we should try to contact them," said Martha, tapping the wall and letting the echo reverberate around her. "If they're in trouble they could probably do with our help."

"Yeah..." agreed The Doctor, studying the sonic screwdriver again. "But I can't help feeling I've been here before. Sort of déjà vu."

"Maybe you have," said Martha simply. "Perhaps you've just forgotten it. It do that sometimes. I go into the kitchen and forget what I've gone in for."

"I'm sure I'd remember a derelict ship with an independent life support system," he said. "Just because it's so odd." He looked up at her. "Odd," he repeated. "That's an strange word, isn't it? Odd. It's sort of, well, odd."

Martha gave him a withering look and they both set off down the corridor, in search if the source if the distress signal. Soon, their way was blocked by a heavy door. The operating mechanism on the wall was lifeless and just clicked as The Doctor pressed it.

"See," he said, tapping the control panel with his knuckle, " I told you it was odd. Why would you power up the lights and pump air around but keep the doors locked? Odd."

"Maybe they open them manually," Martha suggested, searching the wall opposite for a lever.

"These are blast doors," The Doctor explained. "They're far too heavy to be opened manually. Besides, they close on a hull breach so you'd probably want them to stay closed. Unless you happen to like floating in space. It's quite relaxing really. You should try it, Martha. Floating in space, eh? The new swimming with dolphins! Oh, that could catch on!"

"I'll have to give it a spin when I get chance," Martha said, shooting him a thin smile. He grinned and touched the tip of the sonic screwdriver against the dead console and activated the wand. The sonic tool hummed and the console illuminated slightly, sending blue and yellow sparks into the air around it. The weighty door juddered and then groaned as it began to slowly open, traveling upwards on a mechanism that had probably not been used in decades. It eventually can to rest with a loud, reassuring clang, which echoed around the cavernous hull.

The Doctor briskly scanned the room beyond and then marched smartly through, holding his sonic screwdriver out in front of him. Martha followed still a little uncertain of where the Cloister Bell and the distress signal meant.  
The door was, in essence, just a device for diving the corridor as the walls, floors and ceiling beyond it were exactly the same as those they had just walked through. The lights still beamed dully, the air was still heavy with the same stale odour and the far off noises still sounded on the periphery of Martha's hearing. However, the thing that set this part of the corridor apart from the previous section were the two large floating orbs that occupied most of the space between the ceiling and the floor. They were a dull black colour and covered in hundreds of tiny, but sharp looking spikes. It also looked as if someone had taken an aerosol can and spray the orbs with symbols in yellow paint. Symbols that were in a language that Martha didn't understand.  
"Well." said The Doctor, " I haven't seen one of these in years. I thought we'd got rid of them all. It just goes to show you can never be certain.""They look nasty," Martha said, stretching out a hand in an attempt to test the sharpness of one of the spikes against her finger. The Doctor, seeing what she was attempting, quickly swept up his hand to bat hers away. Shocked - and almost tumbling backwards as she was caught off balance - she shot him a wide eyed look.

"Don't touch!" he snapped. "Temporal mines. Nasty. Very nasty"  
"And what are they, when they're at home?" she blurted, still staggered from his previous action. She frowned, peering closely at the spiked orb in front of her.

"Well," he explained, thrusting his hands into his pockets, "when they explode they open a tear in time and the resultant wormhole sucks anything in a 10 foot radius back - or forwards - to a predetermined point in the past or future."  
"Just like the TARDIS, then?" Martha, nodded impressed with the black explosives' quality.

"No," corrected The Doctor. "These only travel to a specified point in time. Not space. They could take you back to, ooh, I don't know, last Wednesday afternoon, for example. Only it would be last Wednesday afternoon around where you're standing. Only, as they're not very accurate it would be a bit hit or miss."

He scanned one with his sonic screwdriver and then squinted at its opaque surface.

"They used to be used by the time pirates of the Vacunian system. They set up raids on ships that had passed them by days before, by using two of these." He waved a concerned hand at the spheres. "They'd rip a hole in time to where the ship was and send a second mine through. Then, using a time delay detonate the second mine to bring the ship back to the present. Usually, it would be so damaged by the trip the crew wouldn't make it."

"Oh dear," gasped Martha. "And do you think this is the work of pirates?"  
"Oh no," replied The Doctor. "The mines used by the Vacunian pirates were really basic. Really unstable. A sneeze would set them off. These are, well, more evolved."

He bent over for a closer look at the mines, placing his spectacles on his nose as he did so.

"And they look pretty new," he added, standing upright once again. "Temporal mining was outlawed decades ago by the Ziniz Convention. Totally illegal now to manufacture or own them."

"But here some are," said Martha, shooting The Doctor a quizzical look.  
"Indeed," said The Doctor, somewhat distracted. "As I said earlier: odd!" He then turned and began to jog back to the TARDIS calling over his shoulder: "I'll be back in a minute, Martha! Stay there and don't touch anything."

"But - But -" Martha protested turning in his wake to gaze after him, but he was gone. She blew her cheeks out in frustration. At least the Closet Bell (or whatever it was called) had stopped, she thought, or now she couldn't hear it. He turned back to the black mine floating in front of her and sighed against. Temporal mines, eh? she thought. What will they think of next. As she studied its dull surface her eyes came across a yellow light that she hadn't noticed before. It was small and about half way down the curved surface of the orb, just visible amongst the sharp spines on its surface. It blinked on and off rhythmically and steadily.

"Doctor!" Martha called back down the corridor. "I think you need to see this!"  
There was no reply. Martha looked back at the lamp. It was still flashing steadily although she could have sworn the intervals were becoming less and less.

"Doctor!" she called again. "There's a flashing light! I think it means something!"

Still there was no response. She looked back at the mine. The lamp was definitely flashing faster this time. There was almost no interval between off and on.

"Doctor!" she yelled louder. "The mine is flashing!"

This time there came a response.

"It's okay as long as the light doesn't become constant," called The Doctor, reappearing from the gloom but still a far way down the corridor. He was carrying what looked like a old television aerial set.

"What happens then?" asked Martha, looking back at the mine. The light was flashing faster and faster. Then back to The Doctor.

"They explode," called The Doctor simply.

Martha looked back at the mine. The light became constant. The last thing she was aware of before a bright, blue light blinded her and a harsh, strong wind knocked her over was The Doctor calling out.

Then there was blackness...


	2. Chapter 2

"Martha!" The Doctor yelled, sprinting down the remaining length of the corridor towards the site of the explosion. "Martha!" he yelled again, more in desperation than from actually expecting a reply. "Not again!" he said through gritted teeth, placing the new equipment onto the floor and scanning the blast area with he sonic screwdriver. "It can't happen again!"

To the naked eye, it probably didn't look as though there had been an explosion. There were no tell-tale signs of localised damage: no fractured ceiling limping downwards towards the blast point; no charred markers on the walls to the left or right and no buckled flooring under foot. No, to the naked eye, it was just as it always had been: a long corridor containing floating black, spiked orbs. Only The Doctor didn't just have a naked eye. The Doctor had his sonic device and some other equipment. After studying the readings from the initial sonic scan he muttered something under his breath and began to assemble the kit he had brought with him from the TARDIS.

"I will get you back, Martha," he said to no-one in particular, but perhaps as a reaffirmation to himself that he believed he could. "If it's the last thing I do, I will get you back."

The equipment was assembled on a small tripod with an array of small fins and appendages sticking out of a long, central tube at regular intervals. If anyone had asked – and this, he knew would have been Martha's job – he would have told them that it was a temporal field stabiliser. It was used, primarily, for preventing time sensitive items from dropping into the continuum. He was slightly disappointed that there was nobody around to ask, however it didn't stop him speaking quietly to himself as he worked.

"..so theoretically," he mumbled, "all I will need to do is to segregate the residual temporal field created by the mine from the intrinsic temporal field of the ship and I should be able to identify where you've gone to, grab the co-ordinates, feed them into the TARDIS and voila! Instant rescue!"

He pressed his sonic screwdriver against the wiry creation and it began to hum slightly. The fins swivelled and aligned themselves with each other as the main tube raised and lowered itself on the hinged bracket of the tripod as its internal light pulsed red and blue. Once it had adjusted itself to the correct height a beam of white light screeched from its tip and shot forward to where the mine had once been. It then transformed into a spectral version of the mine, generating a web-like outline of the orb where it once hovered in the corridor. The Doctor again aimed his sonic screwdriver at the device and scanned it for a reading.

"..almost there," he murmured. "Almost there.."

Then, the light extended from the image of here mine and began to fashion a figure standing adjacent to it. The light arced and folded into an imprint of facial features, hair and then clothes. Very soon an exact copy of Martha, cast from the interwoven tendrils of light was standing where her real body had only minutes before.

"Oh, that's good!" said The Doctor rubbing his hands together as the figure began to enact Martha's last movements. There was no sound but he saw her looking closely at the mine, then over her shoulder as if to call out - to him, he imagined - and then looked back to the mine once again. This continued for a few seconds until the light mine exploded as the real one had. The resulting cloud of light washed over the Martha figure and consumed her. There was a further brighter cloud of light and then, almost instantly, both were gone.

The Doctor watched the light show carefully then began to scan the fragile device he built with his sonic screwdriver. His face rippled into a mask of concentration as his drew the last few bits of data from the tripod mounted equipment and, upon finalising this activity, he drew the sonic device up to his face with a look of triumph.

"Oh," he said, his face now awash with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. "Oh that's bad. Very bad. No reading. Why would there be no reading?"

He rubbed his chin methodically. Thoughts tripped through his head like rain drops on a window, his finger drew circular lines in the air as he ran through the possible solutions to the predicament he found himself in. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and yelped "Ha!" at the top of his voice and danced around nimbly like some excited school boy. Then dropped to one knee and began manipulating the spider-like contraption so that he tripod was now taller and its barrel longer. Then, filled with expectation, he once again brought the machine to life. It stuttered slightly before once again it spewed forth the beam of light which, in turn, recreated the mine and Martha. Once again the vignette of his companion's last moments on the ship were recreated and once again, after the mine had exploded, he sought her destination by activating his sonic screwdriver.

Once again, however, the result was the same: there was no reading.

"Where are you, Martha Jones?" he said once again to himself. "You couldn't have gone nowhere, could you? Or, I should I say, no when? Where are you Martha Jones? When are you?"

~0~

High above The Doctor, in a space just between the matt black ceiling and the equally black wall, a small camera was capturing his movements. It hovered above him, completely shrouded by the darkness of the crippled ship's shadows, broadcasting his image to an eager watcher sat in the relative comfort of another ship not too far away. The watcher, with some curiosity, played back the events of the last few minutes that the camera had captured. And, satisfied that he had seen enough to ascertain that The doctor was a sufficient threat he smartly pressed a button in the control panel in front of him and began barking orders.

"Commander Thrag," the watcher said in a steady, if somewhat officious, tone. "We have and intruder in the mined chamber of wrecked ship. How can this be?"

There was a burst of static from speaker in the console, and then a voice in a similarly officious time replied: "General Statkis, no one has boarded the ship through the airlocks. The proximity alarms have not sounded and the on board defences have not alerted us."

"Are you implying I am mistaken, Commander?" the watcher barked.

"No General," came the immediate response, still as resolute as before. "Only that we have not been made aware of it. I will send a squad to investigate."

"See that you do," General Statkis, commanding officer of salvage team, 120th engineering corps of the Glorious Sontaran Army, released the button on the control panel and ended the conversation abruptly. This breach of security, protocol and regulation would not be tolerated.

~0~

Martha's senses were finally catching up with her. The intense light and sudden blackness had been replaced by muffled sounds and blurred objects. She was on her knees and slowly, very slowly she was becoming aware of her surroundings. The dark corridor of the wrecked ship was gone and, as her sight cleared, she could make out the contours of a difference place; lighter and airier, with control panels that had flashing lights and made cheerful sounding chirrup noises. This meant her hearing was also returning. Replacing the ringing in her ears came the noises that, had she had experience of such things, would normally be associated with a corridor aboard a fully functioning star ship. As the white noise's volume gradually decreased she could hear another sound. It was a voice. A brusque and harsh voice calling to her in no uncertain terms. Lifting her head she rubbed her eyes and attempted to focus on the voice's source.

A tall, blurry figure was standing over her. It held a large blurry weapon of some sort and was speaking in muffled tones. Behind it, other blurry figures held equally blurry weapons. Martha's vision cleared sufficiently for her to begin taking in the figures features. He wasn't human. This first thought made her emit a small cry of surprise but, when she realised that she was on a star ship, it was only rational that not all the creatures inhabiting it would be. In fact, the figure wasn't too far away from human shape in its make up: it was taller than an average man, its head was long and domed and it had scales over its cheeks and neck. A fin stretched from the top of its head down the length of its skull and a flowing goatee beard decorated its chin. It wore a very ornate, multi coloured, jacket with a high collar and wide sleeves, held together with a broad elaborate belt. Its wide trousers, which were just as decorative, were tucked into its knee length boots. It was obvious that this was not common battle wear.

"I repeat," the figure barked at her, "who are you, and how did you get here?"

It waved its weapon vaguely at her and the others in the party – just as decoratively dressed - raised theirs an pointed them purposely at here. There were several mechanical clicks that suggested that the weapons were armed and that these people meant business.

Martha instinctively raised her hands and slowly began to rise from her knees.

"I-I-I'm Martha Jones," she stammered. "I was with The Doctor, and now I'm here."

The alien appeared to tut then sigh. He raised his arm and he others relaxed their weapons.

"That explains a lot," he muttered. "You will come with me."

He thrust out a hand and helped Martha to her feet. Then, after ordering her to follow him, he gave directions to the group and they turned around and marched down the corridor. After a few turns down walkways that were busy with similar groups of armed aliens going about whatever their business was, passing through heavy doors that seemed oddly familiar to Martha, they arrived at a lift which took them up a few floors. The speed of the elevators ascent was such that Martha felt as if her stomach would be forced out of her mouth! She did however, feel her feet leave the ground momentarily before the metal box came to rest.

The doors opened and her escort indicated to her to vacate the lift she did and, after further indication, followed the guard. She was in some sort of large, multi-level control room. Around her dozens of humanoids, almost identical to her escorts, sat at workstations in the vast open spaces, nosily speaking into headsets or pressing buttons or studying screens. Others walked around delivering what looked like envelopes and other such messages. A huge dome arced out in front of her, making up most of the walls of the control room and the ceiling. It exposed the inky blackness of space where stars twinkled, suns shimmered and comets and meteors left glowing tails as they sped through the infinite night. Taking up much of the view the vast window gave, however, was a planet that the ship was in orbit around. Martha gasped in amazement as she regarded the alien world. She could make out continents and oceans on the planet's surface which was, in essence, similar to Earth if not exactly alike. Clouds coated its blue surface like cotton wool blowing in the wind. She was so drawn to the visage in front of her that she almost forgot that she was being escorted by alien guards. It wasn't until on of them spoke that her concentration was refocused on her current situation.

"Stay here," barked her gaudy chaperone, and indicated her to remain just to one side of the lift. He then detached himself from the honour guard around Martha and approached another alien standing to one side of a consol. This other alien was dressed somewhat more elaborately than the guard. His collar was much bigger, the designs on his tunic far more detailed and colourful, and his belt was adorned with a sword that may have been ceremonial in purpose.

Martha craned her neck to over hear their conversation.

"Apologies, High Governor," said the guard in the same officious tone he had used with Martha, and smartly stood to attention. "There is a human we found in one of the service corridors on level eight that states she is with The Doctor."

The High Governor regarded Martha and indicated to her that she should approach him. Once she was at his side, he called out to a cluster of aliens huddled around one terminal to his left.

"Is this correct?" he said addressing Martha, his voice just as curt as his sub-ordinate. "Our agreement was that you would remain on deck 6 where the leisure facilities are and close to the TARDIS."

"I-I just did what The Doctor told me to," stammered Martha in defence.

"Then perhaps this agreement needs to be reiterated to him," said the alien somewhat haughtily. "Doctor!" he called to the throng of figures around the consol to his left.

An arm clutching a sonic screwdriver rose through the crowd. "Sort of busy, here," said a voice less officious than the aliens'. "Can we discuss it later?"

The alien was somewhat annoyed by this response, but his tone didn't waiver. "I think we should discuss it now," he barked. "You are a guest aboard my ship and therefore you will abide by my rules."

There was an audible groan and a human, shorter than the aliens detached himself from the crowded terminal and strode purposely toward Martha and the High Governor. Martha regarded him for a long second. He had collar length dark hair which shrouded his striking facial features. His white loose fitting shirt and tight waistcoat made him resemble a Dickensian poet. His tossed the sonic screwdriver over and over in his hand as he approached.

Martha's face formed into a mask of confusion. She looked quizzically up at the alien to her side and then back to the man approaching her.

"Who's this?" she hissed, waving a stray hand at the man flipping his sonic screwdriver and whistling tunelessly. He wasn't tall enough to be The Doctor. He didn't even look remotely like The Doctor. He wasn't The Doctor.

"Hello," he said with a slight grin, extending a hand to Martha. "I'm The Doctor."


End file.
